


Where's the Scholarship for Being Gay and Having Issues

by Rhidee



Series: 2019 Drabbles [9]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Venom (Movie 2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Crack, Fluff and Humor, Genderfluid Character, Identity Issues, Mental Health Issues, Other, Zey/Zem pronouns for Crowley (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-13
Updated: 2019-10-13
Packaged: 2020-12-14 05:48:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21010745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhidee/pseuds/Rhidee
Summary: An ex brainwashed ex assassin, ex angel, and ex singular being walk into the US college education system.  What happens next may shock you!





	Where's the Scholarship for Being Gay and Having Issues

“Hey. Hey asshole.” 

The pillow thudded approximately straight fuckin into Eddie’s mouth.

“Wake up.”

Crowley was perched on the bed like a gargoyle, literally defying gravity with zir feet balanced up on the bedpost like gravity was personally bowing to zem. 

Eddie blinked blearily. The blankets shifted in what a third party would note as a weird way. Then a shove had Crowley falling off the bed with a squawk. 

**Haha. Bitch.**

-

It’s not like Eddie had PLANNED to bunk up with a motley crew of white guys with issues, but it had just happened. After the whole, uh, everything, he had a little crisis or two and realized, hey, probably shouldn’t piss where I sleep. Metaphorically speaking. The piss being a metaphor for like, eating heads. 

And then he had thought, hey, do I need to piss at all? Maybe pissing is optional, and I can not piss, and be fine and instead do something else. And then, there won’t be any piss where I sleep, because the piss will be not a thing, and that’s about when Eddie decided to stop using metaphors and start googling what’s in chocolates, tatertots, and heads.

Phenethylamine, apparently! Go figure. So then Eddie was like, okay, let’s see if I can work some place that gives me unlimited access to that, but easily.

Being a doctor was right out, for tons of reasons. A mortician eating brains seemed worse than murder, somehow. Fry cook? He did one interview, smelled the unstoppable grease scent hanging in the air, and said a solid fuck no. Venom disagreed, until he heard the sizzle of the deep fryer, and then with a flinch agreed. Which, if you’ve ever felt something flinch on the inside of your body? Yeah, he wasn’t getting the job anyway after his reaction to that.

So Eddie Brock took his journalism degree and started applying to chocolatier jobs. And turns out? There’s some good goddamn jobs for chocolate lovers. Paid sick time, vacation, AND holiday? Commuter benefits, 401k program, medical, vision, AND dental? Unbelievable, Eddie couldn’t believe he had spent all this fucking time doing goddamn _journalism_ when apparently you could have a starter job at 17 bucks an hour.

Except, turns out, not a starter job. They wanted you to have some sort of passion for it, or good experience, and considering the burnt fries Venom was eating out of the trash can, okay, not something Eddie can just pull. “Yes, I have a passion for the work because the brain eating symbiote I both am and am not needs to eat chocolate to live. Would you like me to put my arms forward for a strait jacket, or backwards for handcuffs?” Yeah, no.

He decided to do what any rational thirty-mumble year old man would do and went swinging full force into a midlife crisis. He filled out a FAFSA and applied for college with the same blind swinging enthusiasm as a college kid in his first barfight, which inevitably, was soon to be Eddie in his not so first bar fight. He went to orientation, feeling like some sort of scarecrow in the midst of young adults who were too bright eyed to even recognize who he was. He heard through a friend (Anne) that a friend of her friend (who’s name he did not know, but was very intensely pretending that he did) knew a guy who was looking for a third roommate, and well, the rests history.

-

“Hey.”

The Winter Soldier sat straight up and automatically shot a hole through the window, and also, the person sprawled luxuriously on the end of his bed.

“Now that’s no way to treat your sleep paralysis demon.” Said the figure, as it got stabbed with a knife, repeatably. No effect. Literally none.

“спецназ. Report. Kто.” Said The Winter Soldier.

A blink. Two.

“What the fuck?” Said Bucky Barnes.

“Hi! I’m Crowley.” The hand was put literally so close to Bucky’s face he could smell the nail polish. Which was. Another layer of hallucination. Great.

“Man. Fuck this.” Bucky got out of bed and started rummaging for his textbooks, shoving them haphazardly in a duffle bag. He was going to recreate himself as Hugh goddamn Raye if it was the last thing he did, which honestly, possible.

And Hugh didn’t talk to his hallucinations, Hugh had no hallucinations, Hugh was reconnecting with his passions after a failed gas station industry and was going to major in Geology with hopes of working as a sniffer dog for oil companies. Hugh loved capitalism and believed in the American dream.

Bucky just liked rocks.

Crowley stared, hand still outstretched, at Bucky. Then zey launched an empty rootbeer bottle at his head, courtesy of his messy bed area.

“What the-Fuck!” Bucky held his head and aimed his gun. He looked at the bottle, then at the guy, and then back at the bottle, for honestly a too long period. Then back at the guy.

“You’re not a hallucination.”

“You’re an asshole. Wanna be roommates?”

It was a match made in heaven, which rode happily through the last of Bucky’s 'fuck hydra' funds and straight into debt. College is goddamn expensive.

-

Eddie initially was stressed at living with not one, but two guys who could notice they were Venom. 

“Uh.”

That was before Bucky came home with a bloody duffel bag full of cash.

Crowley glanced up from Wifeswap, shrugged, and then went back to eating froot loops.

“Um. This is. Theatre. This is for a play.” Said Bucky. A drop of blood dripped down from his ear. It was maybe the least erotic way for something to drip.

**Do we eat him now, Eddie?**

God. Fuck. Maybe? No. Okay. Fuck.

Eddie nodded, took two steps towards his room, and then fell over with a debilitating panic attack, not helped by Venom also freaking out at the chemicals, and Crowley and Bucky also freaking out, and okay, it was just a lot.

-

Anyway, that’s one way to reveal that he had an alien in him. And he only got shot a little.

-

“Do you want to make out?” Crowley said. Zey turned off the stove and patiently waited for Bucky.

Bucky blinked. Did some mental math that looked a little like, ‘fuck it, I don’t even know if im sexual’.

“Yes.”

Zey smiled and leaned in. 

Sparks flew, hearts raced, Bucky freaked out so bad he left a handprint on the castiron handle.

Crowley took a gigantic step away and stared.

“…Can we do that more?” Bucky asked, slowly letting go of the pan.

Crowley did exactly as much ‘perking like a happy puppy’ as fit zir persona, and practically slid into Bucky’s arms.

It worked.

**Author's Note:**

> No gods no kings eddboy
> 
> Crazy good chocolate job, archived for ur viewing pleasure:  
[yeehaw](https://web.archive.org/web/20191013041044/https://www.indeed.com/viewjob?jk=70919bc9cf5f233b&from=tp-serp&tk=1dn1kuqivfih8800)


End file.
